


There is something you should know

by Salty_Nixon_1975



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucky is Death, Captain America Steve Rogers, Captain America: The First Avenger storyline, M/M, On Hold, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Really bad with tags, Slow Build, falling in love with death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_Nixon_1975/pseuds/Salty_Nixon_1975
Summary: He has wandered on earth since the beginning of time. He saw men and women being born, live, suffer, love, and eventually die. His order? Destroy. Let the bad ones suffer. Resurrect the pained ones. Make them all find peace eventually. Or hell. He could do as He pleased.Humankind feared Him. Prayed to be spared. But in the end, He found them all. The rich, the poor, the good, the bad. He did it coldly. No emotions. Never. He was not human. He took what was his.And until today, He didn't know how it happened.Something that didn't exist in Him.But that was what happened.He, Death, fell in love.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

He had felt the pull towards this soul in Winter 1918.

That was how He found them. The dying beings. The end of a living soul. They were calling for Him. To take them to the other side. To help them find peace in eternity. Well...He decided if they were worthy of finding peace. He looked into the souls, into every moment of their lives and waged their actions. If He found them worthy, He guided them to the eternity of peace. If He found them dripping of guilt, He dragged them to hell, literal hell. Where the souls got punished for what they did. For eternity.

So it came that He felt this pull of a soul. He just had guided the soul of a man, who had been chasing and killing women, a serial killer had the humans called him, into hell, as He felt a light pull back to earth. He let Himself follow the pull, knowing it would lead Him into the right city, the right time. All He had to do was to let Himself go and follow this suddenly formed bond, the cry of a soul.

It has been a while since He had been back in the field. The number of people dying was too much for Him to handle alone. So He took advantage of His reapers as often as He could, which collected the souls and He sorted them into the souls worth of heaven and hell. He rarely guided a soul Himself these days. Today had been one of the rare days.

He opened His eyes and found Himself in a cemetery. How fitting for his task. But why did he end up here? This is usually a soulless place.

Death looked around, over the field of tombstones until His eyes fell on a young woman. The bond made Him get closer to her. His mind reached out to her soul to make sure He had the right person. But her soul was vibrating with life. That was odd.

Whenever Death felt a bond, a pull toward a soul, said soul was either dying or begging for another soul's life. Like a child's soul was not aware of dying as the soul of a grown-up was.  
He could feel the cry of a soul of a perfectly healthy human, but this soul was stained with worry about a weaker, soon dying soul. It was a complex thing, but Death always only had to follow His instincts and found the chosen souls pretty fast.

The serial killer's soul for example. He had been walking through Sydney, his mind and spirit had been open for any sign of a soul, ready for Him. He had just turned away from a hospital when He had felt a sudden pull. He had let Himself follow the pull in one moment and stood behind the guilty man. He had been aware the police had him on their radar and he had been terrified to go to jail.  
So he had done something Death could never understand. He killed himself. Shot himself in the head.  
The lifeless body, in a motel room, Death had found in a bathtub. What a dramatic end for an irrelevant human.

With a blink, Death' attention was back on the blonde young woman in front of him. He let His mind look into her soul's story. He saw a man. Joseph Rogers. Dead since May. Fallen in the war.

The World War had been Death's busiest time. He and the reapers had gathered souls around the world all days and nights. He did not remember the man in Sarah's soul, but He had taken hundreds, thousands of men.

He sighed. So not her husband either. He watched her placing flowers onto the earth in front of the stone with his name engraved. Joseph Rogers. Loving husband and father.

That was interesting. He dug deeper into her soul. Under the grieve of losing the love of her life, she had also a deep love for her child. Her son. Barely four months old. And she worried about him a lot.

Death inhaled the icy air. Not that He was freezing. He could not feel cold nor heat.

He had a human form because He liked the human form the most. Humans had caught a look at him from time to time and He was sure that He was measured as "beautiful". That was what the few had said before they realised who He was. A sunkissed complexion, icy blue eyes, brown hair and a body which was defined as sculptured.

But back to the mission. He had found the next one. His mind studied every information it could gather from the woman's soul until she was on the move again.

She walked north and left the cemetery. Death followed her and took this as an opportunity to go over the intel He had so far.

Her son had been born on the 4th of July. Apparently an important day for the country, but He did not care about human national traditions. The son was a sickly baby. Since he was born, doctors had told his mother, Sarah Rogers, a nurse, that the boy would not live for long. They didn't have much, but she loved him endlessly. He had bad lungs and struggled to breathe or keep the milk she was feeding him. He was not a screamer, rather a silently suffering baby, which made her worry more than him being too weak. Another interesting fact was that she believed the boy would make it. Sarah Rogers was a religious woman, who went to church nearly every Sunday and who prayed every night for her boy's health.

Meanwhile, Sarah walked towards a house and climbed the stairs. She knocked on the door and an elderly woman opened.  
She asked her if everything has been going okay. If her boy has been good and entered the house. It was a tiny, dilapidated house.

Death closed His eyes and when He opened them again, He was standing in a tiny room, which seemed to be the kitchen and living room in one.  
Sarah just hung up her coat, while she chatted with the elderly woman. Said woman put a scarf around her neck, smiled and reassured Sarah, that he had been a good boy and she would look after him any time. Then she left.

So, that meant Death was standing in Sarah's house then. He looked around. It was not much to see, but He could see the effort to make it look homely.

Sarah tiptoed into one of the doors at the end of the living room part. He followed.

In the room, which seemed to be her bedroom, Sarah bent over her bed, rustling the sheets and whispered softly.

Death walked around her small bed and His eyes fell onto a little bundle on the left side of the bed. She just took a small creature out of the bundle and grabbed a worn-out blanket to wrap the creature in it, while she kept muttering with a soft, soothing voice.

Suddenly He felt the pull with intensity so that He realized. This was her child. Her son. The chosen one.

That was the soul He was supposed to take.

Death approached the two. Mother and son. Sarah was now humming a melody and rocked the baby gently. Death reached out to the son's soul. And as His mind touched the soul, it felt like His surroundings exploded with light. Startled, His mind flinched back.

What has just happened?

Death furrowed and looked at the child again. He had faded out Sarah's voice but now He listened to her again.

"Are you hungry, Steve? You are not crying now, but it is nearly time for your bottle again, so let me..." And He faded it out again. Steve. That was the boy's name. With that new information, He followed Sarah to the kitchen, where she was putting milk in a pot and on the oven, still gently rocking Steve.

Death leaned on the empty wall next to the oven and closed His eyes. He let His mind reach out for Steve's soul, gently this time. He entered the soul and keeping the pressure feather-light. The world in a soul usually is full of darkness, guilt, secrets, happiness here and there, worries or rage.

But Steve's soul. Death had taken babies before. This was actually not a new situation. He had taken babies since the beginning of humanity, but He never had experienced an intensity like this. This tiny soul, not even alive for a year, this soul was overflowed with light and love. Nothing less. Nothing that could have stained the purity of a baby.  
Sure his father was not here. But as far as Death had understood the situation, Joseph had never met his son. He had been away, part of the terrible war that had put the world in rage.

It has been his mother for him since the beginning of his life. And his soul was full of love for her. Love. So deep, only a child, a baby could feel for a parent. But not only love. Steve, as new as he was in this world, his soul and mind had understood how difficult it was for his body to function. Steve was a quiet baby because he did not want to have it harder as it was for his lungs. His instincts fought to stay alive. For his mother. For this world, he did not know yet. He was weak now, very weak. But not his soul nor his body was ready to let go of the fight. It was incredible. Impossible, even.

Death pulled back out of Steve's soul and opened His eyes to the baby's blue eyes looking in His direction. He could not possibly see Death. He only got visible for humans if He really wanted to. But Steve looked right at Him. His eyes wide open, challenging even. If He, Death, dared to take the fire out of his soul.

And He should. If He got pulled to a soul, it had a meaning. It kept the world in a balance. The destiny of many. It was out of question that Death would take Steve.

It was out of question.

Death never let anyone live.

He never did.

Only He did now.

Spellbound by the boys blue eyes, by the purity of his soul, Death for the first time in His existence felt human emotion. Selfishness. For the first time, He wanted to see this boy live and grow up. He wanted to witness how the boy would experience his first disappointment, to see his soul stained.

He would be around because with Steve's condition He would never be far, but He would keep the boy alive and let him suffer the life of a human. His eternity could be like a stretch, so why not having a little fun from time to time right?

He did that sometimes. He met a soul and if He was in the mood He would interfere in their lives and play around. To see how humans would react, how their souls would take it if they could take it.

And the purity of Steve's soul and the reaction of human emotion he had awoken in Death, made Him want to let this boy suffer. His spirit was not totally in that mood and was whispering about warmth and human lov-

Death shrugged it off. Love was a human emotion. Angels called it joy, devils called it anguish. But He had no opinion on it, because He could not feel it.

The pull He had felt has faded, based on His decision.

Sarah was now sitting at the small table, feeding her son, totally unaware of the presence of Death. She had nothing to fear. For now.

Death took another look at Steve, but the boy was focused on his bottle. Little did he know that Death had decided over his fate.

Suddenly there was a pull at His mind. Another soul. Death turned away from the wall and closed His eyes, letting the pull take Him where He was required.

The first time He went back to look after Steve was in 1921.

Steve was 3 years old and a small, thinly toddler. He got tired quickly. He was a brave boy, with a passion for fruits. He asked Sarah for every fruit and what their colour was called.

Death watched the two for a few months. He looked into Steve's soul and still He found no evidence of stains. It was something else with this boy. Sarah tugged Steve in for the night and Death hid in the darkest corner of his room. It was a simple room. A bed, a table and chair, a few books for children and a toy here and there. A small wardrobe for Steve's clothes. That was it.

Steve grabbed a teddy bear and cuddled it on his chest. Soon Death noticed Steve's deep breaths and moved to his bed. Caught in a moment, He sat on the bed and looked over the sleeping boy. He could not resist and looked into his soul. Steve was a cheerful child. Always spending time with his mother and excited to discover new things every day. Not one bad experience, nothing that had left a dark spot on his soul. Yet. Even though he was sick more often than not, he was not a bitter kid at all.

Death felt her presence before He saw her. It was always like that with them. Natasha, the first reaper he had ever found. He could not form a relationship with someone, but if he could it would be with her. She was beautiful. And disciplined. Got every job done, no matter how hard the story of a soul was.

"You know that you should not be here. Bad enough that you disregarded your most important rule, but to see you coming back to your mistake is not helping."

"Natasha. Optimistic as ever."

"It is not the way it should be and you know it. Special soul or not."

He did not even bother to look at her. He snapped His fingers and she disappeared into thin air.

Another look at Steve and Death rose from the bed.

"Your time will come Steve"

Death rushed to Steve's deathbed in 1926. Steve has struggled over the years. He got into school and was a fast learner. Death had visited him every year. Every time Steve got hit with a really bad cold and fever rising so much Sarah was helpless and took Steve to the hospital.

With every visit Death looked into Steve's soul, searching for a stain, a reason to take him this time. And since Steve went into the real world outside his house when he got into school, his souls got a few bruises. He had difficulties to make friends. He started to draw and focused on that when it was clear that other kids simply did not want to play with him. So far his soul knew loneliness, rejection and disappointment.

It was fascinating for Death to see what the boy had experienced and how less his love for life was affected. Steve still was a grateful kid, smiling and careful with his neighbourhood. He went to church with his mother every Sunday, and Death was nearly obsessed with his faith in God having a plan for his life.

But during summer 1926 Steve had caught a cold after he ran home through pouring rain, soaking wet when he stepped through the front door.  
He was too weak to smile, too weak to speak, too weak to breathe. And that was when Death had stepped in.

He had guided a little girl to heaven, which had been drowning in a river in England when the pull had forced Him back to America. Initially, He transferred the task to Natasha, but she came back and her look had made Him appear in Steve's room two seconds later.

The priest stood over him, administering Steve's last rites. Steve. His small face was pale, so pale, sweating, his lips nearly blue. His lungs were rattling with every breath.

"It is time" Natasha was by His side. Her face was emotionless.

Death closed His eyes and let His mind slip into Steve's soul. Into his subconscious.  
Steve was well aware of his condition. And his concern was still only for his mother. He did not want to leave her behind. In his subconscious, Steve was on top of his building, watching the sunrise.

And Death stepped behind him. Steve's hair looked like gold, his delicate figure in his best sunday suit. Never before He felt so drawn to a human. Never before His being tried to resist His natural urge to take this soul out of its life. He was obsessed with the light Steve's soul carried within himself.

"What kind of magic is this? What is stopping me from silently ripping your soul out and leaving your human body behind? Why can't I just do it? Why do I want you to see me and give me the hope you have for this world?"

Steve spun around, startled. "Who are you?"  
But before Death could even think about how to respond, Steve whispered in realisation, "You are Death, aren't you?" And Death bowed His head in affirmation.

"No..." Steve whispered. He turned around again, his eyes locked on the sun rising higher and higher with every moment.

Death padded beside Steve and looked over the city.

"It is time." Death repeated the words Natasha had said earlier, but His voice was not as emotionless and steady as hers.

Steve turned around and suddenly Death was struck by an overwhelming feeling when their eyes met. In this moment, instead of silently taking over Steve's soul and guiding him out of this life, He recognised this feeling, this hesitation, He recognised Steve. He wanted to be loved and bind Steve's hope with Himself. He wanted to be wanted by Steve. He wanted to be Steve's life.

And believe it or not, Steve seemed to have an enlightenment as well. It was ridiculous, but Death saw his eyes widen and felt a change in the human. Steve's eyes burnt with sudden passion and determination, similar to his own. He stepped closer to Death and opened his mouth to speak. But he did not say a word but blinked and closed it again. Death took Steve's hand, intertwined their fingers. Both watched their hands in silence, getting used to the feeling of skin on skin. Death was overwhelmed by the galvanic this touch sent through his body. Never, ever in his existence, a human had woken such a thrill in His body.

"Come with me, Steve. Sooner or later, your life would have ended like this anyway. Let it go!" His voice was soft velvet, seducing this human, he wanted to take so desperately. He already had the vision to make Steve a reaper and keep him on His side for eternity.

And Steve seemed to consider it. His grip tightened and Death was sure He had won.

"You seem so different from what I learned at church. You are not terrifying at all. You look so normal. Human even. Our touch, makes me feel a longing to just let go and follow you."  
Steve's eyes now met the ice-cold eyes of Death. "You were a part of my life since I can remember and every time I was sick, I knew you were around, but..."

And with that Steve withdrew his hand out of Death's and stepped back as far as possible.

"But I ain't afraid and if I have to choose now, I choose to live. For my mum. I cannot leave her. Not now."

Death watched Steve. His expression still was not as sure as he sounded, but Death saw the sincerity in him and his soul. His soul was weak, but it still was full of love and gratefulness for his mother and life as a whole.

And Steve watched Him. Death knew He could overpower Steve and just take his soul without his permission. And that was what He should do. That was what his mission was.

But that was before He had recognised what He saw in Steve. That was before He wanted Steve to want him. Would He execute His mission regardless of Steve's feelings, that hope would die. So He would wait. Until Steve would want to follow Him voluntarily. Because he would want Him too.

And so he stepped back and slipped out of Steve's subconscious, but not without gifting his soul with new strength and live. He ignored Natasha, who seemed furious and fled out of Steve's room, out of the house, the city, just far far away.


	2. Chapter 2

"He was a father of two. He tended toward violence when he was drunk. The children were bruised more often than not. And his wife, as a mother, she had thought it to be her duty to protect her children. So one night she killed her husband with a kitchen knife. Slit his throat."

He inspected the soul presented. Other than the facts which had led to the man's death, he seemed to be decent when he was sober. A good father even. But the alcohol changed him.  
The case was clear, he would be sent to hell. He should be.

The reaper who had caught the soul was watching him in expectancy. The ones behind him carried their bags of souls, ready to be sorted to their places.  
It was nothing out of the ordinary, really. His reapers collected souls, and He sorted them. Simple as that.

Only it was not that simple anymore.

After Death had let Steve live and stormed off, He had withdrawn Himself into The Darkness.  
That was what He called his "home". It was not a place to live, not like earth. It was a dark place.  
If He should explain how it looked like, He would compare it to a dark cave or the underworld.  
It was a lot like hell, but without the echos of screams of punished souls.

He had watched all the changes on earth since the beginning of time. When the first living beings were sent to earth, He had been created to guard the balance. God had not wanted the living beings to be immortal like gods. He wanted to see them grow, evolve, learn and he made a certain limit for their bodies to have the ability to live and a limit for their minds. He had wanted to see earth as a place for a never ending development. That was what He had been created for. His order was to keep the numbers in balance. To watch out for what the living bodies could take; heat, cold, sickness, the mind, age, etc. He had been created to watch over their time on earth and to not be directly involved with them. He was allowed to look through their souls. Every few decades he was living with the humans because He was amused by watching them. He built up a character and lived mixed with them, until he was bored.

But Steve had unlocked something in Him and which had caught him off guard.

Death was determined to get to the bottom of this change after He had the time to rebuild the guard He usually had up. Which was a new discovery for Him. Thousands of years on earth. Millions of humans, of souls and never, never, had a human got under His skin! Fuck, He had never let a human live, for His pleasure only. To torture them, let them suffer, His amusement came from their stupidity. But to keep them alive only because He liked them?! Hell, He never even liked humans!! Until now, it seemed.

The clearing of a throat interrupted His trains of thoughts. The reaper who had presented Him the latest soul was still waiting for his order.  
He dived into the soul and tensed. A clear case of Hell. For moments this man had wondered, in a drunk state of mind, how much he could push his kids and his wife, which was disgusting to experience. But in his sober moments, he was a deeply loving father and husband. Caring.  
It was a clear case. He belonged in Hell for his secret desire to hurt the people who loved him.  
He deserved punishment. He deserved to suffer.

But.

"Heaven" He said, waving His hand to dismiss the reaper. Said one did not move though.  
He looked at Him as if He had lost His mind. Death narrowed His eyes and looked around only to find the other reaper with similar expressions.  
"What? Are you questioning my decision??" He snapped.  
"N- no! Of course not!" The reaper stammered and bowed while he retreated.

But the crowd was uneasy. He could sense their anxiety.

"Leave us!"  
Death turned around to find Natasha standing behind Him. Her red hair was a hard contrast to her black outfit and her lips had formed a thin line.  
She walked up to Him. The reapers bowed to Him and hurried away. They never dared to witness an argument between Him and Natasha. And she was second of command when He was away. They feared her as much as they feared Him. Natasha was known for not giving second chances when a reaper fucked up. She had killed dozens of reapers who got in the way of the nature of death and it seemed as it was His turn to get His ass kicked. Only she could not kill Him.

"You give everyone what they deserve."  
"What?"  
She started walking again, surrounding Him. He followed her with His eyes.  
"That is what the reapers belive of you. That you give what the soul deserves. Without judgement. Good goes to Heaven. Bad to Hell. No second thoughts. Always justified. And I agree with every decision you make. You never let emotions cloud your judgement. You don't have emotions. That is what makes you a god. That is what separates you from angels and demons and even from us. We can form bonds with each other. We were humane once. We know emotions. But you, you don't."  
She stops right in front of Him. Her breath ghosting over His skin.  
"What is wrong with you?"  
He snorted and threw His head back to bark out a loud laugh, which sounded so fake that even He cringed. But Natasha did not flinch. Her eyes watched Him stepping back to His seat sitting down. "Nothing is wrong with me, Natasha. It was a complex case-"  
"Bullshit."  
"-and I decided to let it slide because the man loved his family. He was not an evil person for wishing harm on his family with a drunk mind."  
"He hurt his family! He was evil enough to hurt people who loved him unconditionally. He had to go to Hell and you know it! God, I should have-" She paused.  
Death raised His eyebrow. "Go on. You should have what?"  
Natasha had a hard look in her eyes, and she raised her chin. "I should have killed Steve the second you made the decision to let him live."

One second, and Natasha gasped for air and Death had to restrain Himself to not grip her throat tighter. He lowered His voice and warned "If you ever approach Steve. If you intend to harm him, I will rip your body apart."  
Rattled, Natasha dared to roll her eyes and Death growled which made Him sound even less human than He looked like. He tightened His grip one more time and pushed Natasha from His grab.

She fell on her knees, groaning but kept her eyes locked with His.  
"I mean it Natasha, 500 years of a bond or not, I will end your existence in an instant. Never. Question. My. Decisions."  
She barked a breathless laugh. "I know you will. But you are foolish to think...that he will be safe... forever", she wheezed.

And Hell, didn't He know that.

But He had a plan.

His plan fell apart in October 1929, on a day which would go down in history as "Black Tuesday".  
After this day, He and His reapers had the busiest time since the World War. The world fell into a catastrophe mode, many many people escaped into death. They shot themselves, they hanged themselves, some even threw themselves out of high windows.

Death had tried to shake off His urge to look after Steve. Over time He had learned to distract Himself. And now He was chasing soul after soul. Every soul had a story, a life that was told while He was looking through them. But with every soul, His insensitivity grew back to how it were before He had laid His eyes on Steve. Before He had devoted Himself to the delicate tiny blonde.

Natasha and Death rarely spoke these days. But Death felt her approval of Him turning into His old self again. He was unloving, ruthless and took souls without hesitation.

But something was missing.

The time He had spent caring, had torn a part open of Himself which He had never discovered before. The brief time He had allowed emotions to flood His mind, they had left a mark. He craved emotions now as much as He craved emptiness.

And it was this inner conflict, which made Him look into Steve's life once again. It was thrilling.  
He convinced Himself that when He took souls and then went back to Steve now and then, He would be hardened enough again to feel nothing for this human.

It went down as this: He took the soul of a man once. He was a broker and shot himself after realizing that he was part of a disaster. That he was part of the reason people would starve. Lose their work, their homes. He took his soul and led the way to hell. There were more reasons than ruining other peoples lives. He was a cheater to his wife. He was not good.

Death was relieved when He did not even hesitate to take the soul to its punishment.

Later that day, He looked after Steve and found the now eleven-year-old boy walking home from school. His blond hair was messy, his clothes creased and dirty. He kicked a stone with every step he went, his hands in his pockets, head down. Death followed the boy along and was careful to not let His new build wall down.

He felt numb. Or not really numb, but He felt as much as He did in the old days. Nothing. Relieved, He relaxed a little and watched Steve crossing a street.

The boy always seemed to be alone. Whenever Death took a look at Steve, the kid was with his mother or helping some neighbour, or alone drawing, looking out of the window, daydreaming.  
He never got a look at a friend or some other kid his age, he would spend time with.

It was sad almost. Like he did not belong to anyone. It was like Steve was a human mirror of His-

No, Death closed His eyes driving away this thought. He did not dare to even finish thinking it. He was no human being. He was not supposed to compare Himself to a human. He had to take this boy out of his mind. He should.

But He kept following Steve walking home, while contemplating about the boy's life.

With a sigh watched Death Steve opening the door to his home and slip inside. He stopped right there. He would not enter this house again. As long as Steve was healthy and not in the condition to die, He would NOT enter his home.

He really had to stop this. He was a god. Or more similiar to a god than a human being. There was no heart beating in his ribcage. There was nothing to break, nothing to love. No heart, no emotions. And He liked it. Watching the humans for thousands of years, He was convinced that being human was a punishment itself. Too fragile, too emotional. There was nothing to live for because in the end they died and left everything they possessed on earth. He did not envy them.

But Steve was a reason to question His existence. He had to set His head back straight. He had to be convinced Steve was nothing special. So He decided it was time to live on earth again.


End file.
